


Because

by Rynn336



Series: Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic [5]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Frontotemporal Dementia, Hospitals, M/M, Overdosing, Should i even bother with the angst tag anymore, Suicide Attempt, everything i write is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynn336/pseuds/Rynn336
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy to get impatient when you already know you're dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because

**Author's Note:**

> Horrible summary again. I suck at those. 
> 
> But before I start, I just want to apologize in advance. I've been doing some research on FTD, and one of the symptoms in the moderate stages is impaired judgment. I also tried to consider Nugget's circumstances and his state of mind. So, this was born. I am so, so sorry if I am not portraying FTD correctly, or drug overdose, or suicide, or any other sensitive topics that may offend someone. 
> 
> Please, please let me know if I messed up somehow or offended you, and I will edit the story, or, if need be, delete it altogether. Thank you for reading!

_Why do we fight sometimes_

_Just like we always do_

_Because he’s seen his reflection in the mirror, the way his eyes have sunken into his head and the gray looks black in the dark shadows twirling crazed circles across his irises._

_Because the sidewalk outside is littered with the corpses of hundreds of ants that never did anything to hurt or annoy him._

_Because he’s stopped answering Hajime’s calls or texts. He doesn’t know how to tell him he’s afraid._

_Because he is afraid._

_Because what doesn’t kill you at first is bound to kill you at some point._

_Because he doesn’t see the point._

_Because as exhilarating as falling can be, he can’t tear his mind from the hard ground below him, creeping closer and closer, and the last thing he wants is to die as a bloody, mangled pulp, staining the earth with his impotence._

_Because he is sick of the distorted image he’s so used to seeing through his kaleidoscope._

Nagito stares at the wall of his hospital room, hoping it’ll catch fire if he glares hard enough. He can hear his phone ringing on his bedside table, but he ignores it, like he has the last ten times. Hajime. Hajime. Hajime.

He’s thrown up so many times he stopped bothering to count, and he can't stop his hands from shaking. His knees tremble too much to hold him when he stands up. He can feel his heart thumping hard and fast behind his ribs, disproportional to his level of activity – none. He’s thankful the dizzy spells only happen once an hour, at most.

He is an idiot.

 

When he first woke up, he kept his eyes closed, staring at the insides of his eyelids as the nurses and his parents spoke in low voices in the corner of his room. “Intentional overdose,” “Paxil,” “paroxetine,” “close to death.”

“That was the point,” he wanted to say.

 

He isn’t sure exactly what made him think it was a good idea. He prides himself on his rationality and practicality. But even so, he found himself tossing back pill after pill last night after his parents had gone to sleep. One of the antidepressants supposed to help him with the personality changes. He’d passed out and woken up here. The moment he heard his parents, he knew he couldn’t be dead. Some kids’ parents wouldn’t think twice about following their kids when they died. His wouldn’t even think once.

He hardly remembers anything after those first couple of pills. But he must have said something to Hajime, because his phone has been ringing off the hook, texts and calls and voicemails flooding onto the lock screen with frantic desperation. He hasn’t read even one, but the text tone and ringtone are Hajime’s.

 

“How are you feeling, Nagito?” asks his nurse from the doorway.

He looks up, his gaze making its way sluggishly across the wall until it bores into hers. “Like I tried to jump into a woodchipper.”

She smiles sympathetically. The one good thing about hospitals is that these people have seen it all. They aren’t bothered when he’s a dick to everyone.

And he doesn’t mean to. That’s just the Nagito he woke up as.

“Are you going to answer it?” she asks, as his phone starts ringing again. On the second ring, it falls silent, then dings. She raises her eyebrows at him, and he leans over obligingly to see what it says.

_Nagito, I swear, if you don’t text or call me back in five minutes I will get in to my car and drive all the way down there._

Ridiculous. Hajime lives a four-hour flight away. The thought of him driving all that way is just…he tries to think of a word other than ridiculous. Preposterous? Laughable. Droll. Risible. Farcical! Farcical is a good one. He files it away for further use.

He sighs and looks back up. The nurse is gone. He watches the clock’s second and minute hands tick across its face until it’s been four minutes and fifty-nine seconds since Hajime’s text.

_Hi Hajime!_ he replies, and adds a smiley face emoji for good measure.

The phone rings again almost immediately and Nagito waits until the fourth ring to pick up. “Hello?” he says, almost cheerfully.

“Nagito!” Hajime’s voice is furious. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since that call last night. I’ve been worried about you! Why haven’t you called me? Or texted me?”

“Whoa. I’m fine. But I have to admit, I don’t really remember calling you last night.”

“You don’t?” He pauses. “You don’t remember? Were you drunk?”

“Uh…kind of? Not really. What did I call you about?”

“Well, you hadn’t called or texted me in weeks and then all of a sudden you call me at 12:30 in the morning and you’re crying! I try to talk to you and all you can do is just sob and yell at me that you love me and that you’re sorry for everything, and then you hang up. I’ve never heard you cry, Nagito. Never.”

“I was crying?” He frowns. “Huh.”

“What happened last night?” Hajime demands.

“Well, I…” He doesn’t really want to keep it from him. “Admittedly, I tried to kill myself. But! But” – he interrupts Hajime, who he knows is about to interject – “it didn’t work, so I’m okay.”

“You…” Hajime’s voice is quiet, hardly audible. “You what?” It’s much quieter in the background, and Nagito realizes that Hajime had been typing.

“No need to worry. I’m okay, I won’t do it again.” He’s not sure why he’s trying so hard to sound happy about it.

There’s a long pause, and the typing resumes. “I’m coming there.”

“What?”

“Just booked my flight. I’ve got just enough to get back with all the money I’ve earned this summer.”

“Don’t. Don’t come here. Stay where you are. I’ll see you at school.”

“Too late.”

 

The lines Nagito and Hajime walk would seem perfectly parallel to anyone who looked at them. A snapshot of their lives, a month, even a year, would show them walking comfortably side by side, the same slope, different y-intercepts. But Nagito knows that their slopes are not quite the same. They seem a little closer than they did once, don’t they? Zoom out. Farther. Even farther. Far enough and you’ll see the point not so far in the future, where the lines meet, right at their hearts, and the fates become one and the same.

Nagito doodles in the blankets with his fingertip, a long string of invisible numbers spiraling out behind his hand across the crisp white sheet beside his legs. He wonders vaguely, yawning as sleep threatens to overcome him again, if he could write an equation for them. If he is P1 and Hajime is P2…he stares at the tip of his finger. No, he decides.

If he wrote it, he would know where their paths met. And ended.

And even if he has a feeling exactly how it will happen, maybe he’ll let himself hope a little longer.

What good is knowing something, anyway, when it will only lead to despair?

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading! 
> 
> Again, please let me know what you liked and what you thought I could do better in the comments. This was a hard one to write, and while I tried to be as accurate as possible, but if I failed to depict something correctly, I would love to know. And any feedback or criticism of my writing is welcome. Thanks!


End file.
